


Defenders of the Carribean: The Curse of the Black Lion

by Honerva_and_Sariel



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Voltron Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honerva_and_Sariel/pseuds/Honerva_and_Sariel
Summary: 12 years ago on the crossing from England, Keith Kogane rescues a shipwrecked Lance from a pirate massacre. Now both 21, the would-be lovers are bound apart by societal hierarchy: Lance is an underappreciated blacksmith, Keith is the governor's son and facing a life married to the newly appointed Commodore Allura. That is until a certain captain shows up in the sleepy little town of Port Arus and whisks the two away on an adventure featuring swashbuckling pirates, a cursed crew, and a love that spans the seven seas.





	1. Chapter 1

1700s time, somewhere in the Carribean Sea. A ship cuts quietly through the brackish water. All around this proud vessel, fog so thick that one could cut it with a knife flits over the waves to caress her hulls. High atop her mast flies the colors of the Altean Kingdom. Somewhere within the thick fog, a voice drifts over the waves. It's small and breathy and high pitched as though it were a sea spirit calling out for lost sailors. 

yo ho yo ho a pirates life for me 

yo ho yo ho its a pirates life for me... 

Suddenly the great vessel breaks out of the dismal gloom. It is a proud ship, a true Victorian beauty, and carved on her side in gleaming gold letters are the letters, H.M.S Castle. Up close it is easy to tell that she's a vessel made for war. Along her sides were 25 cannon ports, and on her maidenhead was mounted a terrifying long-range rail gun. This was a ship meant for battle, and yet at her forefront stood a small boy no older than 12. From his young throat warbled the haunting melody. 

...drink up me hardies yo ho 

A large, warm brown hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and the boy spun around to see the lovable cook known only as Hunk. Hunk was born soft, sporting the flab, gentle eyes, and sweet persona of an experienced baker. His lips pulled back as his dark brown eyes scanned the horizon in fear. 

"Quiet boy," He hissed in the child's ear, "Cursed pirates sail these waters...you wanna call them down on us?" 

The boy's stunning black eyes widened in fear as he stared gobsmacked at the sailor. 

"Mr. Garret," The voice of the young captain, Allura, cut through the gloomy day like a hot knife through butter. She was a dashing woman with her unusual dark skin and pale hair accented with the darkest blue eyes anyone had ever seen. Her posture bore the signature air of a loyal Marine. Next to her was a rather odd man...the young boy's father. Allura fixed Hunk with a wicked glare. 

"That will do." 

"He was singing about pirates! Bad luck to be singing about pirates, with us mired in this unnatural fog-mark my words!" 

"Consider them marked," Allura said with an irritated sneer. She motioned with her head back towards the galley, "On your way." 

"Aye Captain." Hunk moved off, heading back below the decks. As he left, the child could still hear him mumbling underneath his breath...something about fairies being bad luck, even miniature ones. The boy didn't quite understand what he meant by that, but his father stiffened before turning to his son. 

"I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate." He said innocently to the captain before his father could get a word out. The Captain smirked at the child. 

"Think again Mr. Kogane...Vile and dissolute creature, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag, or wears a pirates brand, gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop." 

The boy looks confused. Hunk, overhearing the conversation, mimed a man being hung to help the child understand. The black-eyed boy gasped. At that point, his father, a regal man in his own right, but having the misfortune to sport a garish orange mustache, decided to step in. 

"Captain Allura...I appreciate your fervor, but I am concerned about the effect this subject will have on my son." 

Allura bowed to the man, "My apologies, Governor." 

"Actually, I find it all fascinating!" The child piped up. The governor winced. 

"And that's what concerns me. Keith my boy...we will be landing in Port Arus very soon, and beginning our new lives. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we comport ourselves as befits our class and station?" 

"Yes father," he turned away chastized and found himself leaning against the bow rail. "I still think it would be exciting to meet a pirate..." 

The fog released its grip of the ship briefly, and suddenly Keith saw something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. There, floating in the water as though dead, was a boy around his own age. Keith gasped and leaned back. 

"Look! A boy! In the water!" 

His shout drew the attention of his father and Captain Allura. The captain quickly ran over and looked down. 

"Man Overboard!" 

"Boy overboard!" 

"FETCH A HOOK! HAUL HIM OUT OF THERE!" 

At the captain's call, the crew sprung into action. Sailors scurried around deck and quickly threw a hook and line overboard. As fate would have it, they snagged the poor lad and Captain Allura and the governor hauled him up to the deck. He flopped onto his back. In amidst the bustle, Hunk's attention was grabbed by a strange light coming from somewhere up ahead of them. He moved to the bow to get a better look while the captain and company inspected their new passenger. 

"He's still breathing," Allura said. 

"Where did he come from?" Governor Corran asked in bewilderment. 

"Mary mother of God..." Hunk breathed out. Allura and Corran look to see what he has discovered. 

The strange light he had seen was a burning shipwreck. Debris from the horrid inferno littered the blackened sea while the bodies of the crew bobbed like apples in the water. Hanging from the burning skeleton of what must've been the stern was a ragged Altean flag. No one spoke a word as they sailed through the haunting scene. Finally, Corran broke the silence. 

"What happened here?" 

"An explosion on the powder magazine. Merchant vessels run heavily armed." Allura said without hesitation. The authority in her voice is hard to defy. 

A certain cook scoffed. "Lot of good it did them." 

Allura glared at Hunk in disdain. The cook glared back unperturbed. 

"Everyone's thinking it! I'm just saying it! Pirates!" 

"There is no proof of that. It could've been an accident. Captain, these men were protection. If there is even the slightest chance one of those poor devils is still alive, we cannot abandon them!" Corran spoke. Allura nodded sagely. She may have had command of the ship, but Corran far outranked her by royal standards. 

"Of course not, Governor." She turned to her crew and began giving orders. 

"COME ABOUT AND STRIKE THE SAILS!" 

"UNLASH THE BOATS!" 

"GUNNERY CREW...JACKETS OFF THE CANNONS!" 

She turned back to Corran, her face grave. "Hope for the best...prepare for the worst." 

He nodded gravely and the captain turned back to her crew. She caught the attention of two passing sailors and motioned to the boy still lying prone on her deck. 

"Move the boy aft. We'll need the deck clear." 

They hurriedly picked the child up and moved him away from the chaos. Corran noticed that Keith had yet to move from the rail and quickly pulled him back, cutting off his view of the heinous scene. 

"Keith, I want you to accompany the boy. He's in your charge now. You'll watch over him?" 

Keith nodded gravely. Corran hurried away to help the Marines unstow the longboat. The two sailors carry the unconscious youth to the back of the boat and laid him on the deck just behind the wheel before dashing off to help the rest of their crew. Keith watched them go before kneeling down next to the child. 

He was smallish, shorter than the light-skinned youth, and had beautiful caramel skin. His button nose had a slight upturn to it and his small, brown lips formed a pout. The boy had chocolate-brown hair that kissed his neck and was dressed in a red shirt along with dark short pants. He was a cute lad, even if he was half-drowned and bruised. Keith reached out gingerly and brushed his shaggy bangs away from his eyes. 

The boy woke with a start. A cold hand short out and grabbed Keith's wrist in a death-tight grip. Keith gasped as his eyes met a pair of stunning blue eyes that reminded him of the Carribean sea. Keith didn't know what possessed him to take the frightened youth's hand in his own. He smiled gently. 

"My name is Keith Kogane." 

"Lance McClain." The boy wheezed out. 

"I'm watching over you, Lance." 

Keith didn't know if Lance had heard him. His eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out again onto the deck. As he fell, Keith noticed something attached to a belt at his waist...it looked like a scabbard of some kind. He reached forward and grabbed it, giving a sharp tug. It came free of the scabbard, revealing a cloth-bound knife. Carved into the base of the blade is a symbol inlaid with amethyst. Keith looked to the knife and back at the boy. 

"You're a pirate." He whispered to himself. 

Alarmed by his discovery, Keith quickly looked to the crew. His eyes fell on Allura, giving orders as she made her way towards him. He had to do something. Lance was just a kid, he didn't deserve the iron fist of Altean justice. Quickly Keith slipped the blade into his own scabbard and placed his own weapon in Lance's. Allura trotted up the stairs and Lance stood to greet the woman. She looked from child to child. 

"Did he speak?" She asked. Keith swallowed, surprised when the lie fell easily on his inexperienced tongue. 

"His name is Lance McClain...that's all I found out." 

Allura nodded, "very good." 

She turned and stalked away to deal with her crew. Now that all was safe, Keith crept his way to the stern of the ship to examine his prize. 

He drew the blade and unwrapped the hilt to gaze at the smooth surface. The wind whispered in his ear, toying with his jet black locks. He looked up and out towards the sea. A black shape caught his attention and Keith suddenly found himself frozen in fear. There, sailing away through the fog, was a ship...a schooner to be precise...sporting tattered, pitch-black sails. Keith's scream was frozen in his throat as they passed the fleeing vessel and the fog quickly wrapped around it like a blanket, obscuring the main hull from view, yet the mizzen-top stood tall and proud over the ship. Hanging from it was the infamous crossed blades and symbol of the vrepit sa. Keith looked to the symbol on the blade and back to the flag and shuddered. It was the same one. The fog reared up like an angry sea serpent to devour the mast and the flag along with it, but as he watched, the blades seemed to twist and turn red, blood falling from the tip to drip into the brackish water. He shut his eyes tight... 

...and snapped them open.


	2. Understanding Propriety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lance, how many times must I ask you to call me Keith?"  
"At least once more, Mr. Kogane, as always."

Keith snapped his eyes open and looked around him.

He wasn't 12 years old on the stern of the Castle anymore...he was 20 years old lying in his dark bedroom. He took a deep breath to steady himself. 

"It was just a dream...or was it a memory...?" 

His eyes slide around his room, looking in every shadow for anything that may have been lurking...nothing. 

Carefully he reached over and lit the little kerosine lamp on his bedside. Immediately a warm glow filled the room and chased the shadows back into the corners. hauling himself from the warm bed, he padded quietly over to a dressing table and pulled open the little drawer in the front. He fiddled with space underneath and carefully removed the blade... 

He'd kept that little knife hidden for twelve years... 

Time had not dulled the harsh gleam of the metal, nor the cutting edge, nor the menace of the symbol etched so carefully into the base of the blade. He twisted it in his palm, admiring it before absentmindedly placing it into his scabbard. 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 

The loud booms against the wooden door startled Keith. The chair he'd been sitting on clattered to the floor. 

"Keith?" 

"Father, oh no..." he whispered. 

"Is everything alright? Are you decent?" 

"Yes...Yes." Keith quickly threw on trousers and a loose-fitting top, throwing his scabbard containing the blade onto his bed. He turned to face the door, schooling his face into something that resembled a blank sheet of paper just as his father entered the room. Cradled in his arms was a large box and behind him followed Romelle, one of the servants in the household. His father twirled his mustache and took in the darkened room. 

"Still scarcely awake at this hour? It's a beautiful day!" 

Romelle scuttled over to the window and threw back the curtains. Keith bit back a hiss as the harsh light of the day-star scattered the comforting shadows to the corners. 

Outside, it truly was a stunning day. Not a single cloud tarnished the Safire sky or the lively town beneath. Port Arus was built on a natural harbor and guarded ceaselessly by Fort Alfor, towering over everything from its lofty position on the harbor bluff. The stone parapets lined with cannons ready to fire should any danger befall the peaceful town. 

"I have a gift for you," His father continued. He set the box on his son's bed and proudly opened it, revealing a stunning coat made from fine red velvet. Keith was no stranger to fine clothing, though he despised it, he let out an admiring gasp at the finery. He gently ran his pale fingers over the soft fabric. 

"It's...beautiful. May I inquire as to the occasion?" 

His father beamed, "Is an occasion necessary for a father to dote upon his only son with gifts?" 

Keith giddily snatches the coat and trousers and silk under-shirts from the box and dashed behind his changing screen. Romelle followed her young master reluctantly, wishing for perhaps the hundredth time that they had male servants to help Keith dress. Governor Corran began to pace the room, scuffing the toe of his boot against the wooden floor of his son's room. 

"Although, I did think you could wear it to the ceremony today?" 

"Ceremony?" 

"Captain Allura's promotion ceremony." 

Keith peeked around the screen to stare at his father. 

"I knew it." 

"Or, rather, Commodore Allura...a fine lady, don't you think?" Corran looked up expectantly, only to be met with silence. His hopeful smile fell in concern. From behind the screen, he heard Keith gasp. 

"Keith? how's it coming?" 

Behind the screen, Keith held his long hair out of the way and sucked his minimal gut in as much as he could while Romelle tried her best to button the jacket over the white shirt. His thoughts drifted to the knife on his bed as his father's words finally registered in his brain amid the lack of oxygen. 

"Difficult...to say." 

Corran didn't hear the distress in his son's voice. "I'm told that the coat is the very latest fashion in London." 

Keith sucked his belly in even further, "Men in London must have learned not to breathe." 

Romelle finally got the last button done and Keith released the breath he'd been holding, wincing at the compression around his chest and abdomen. One of the manor's butlers suddenly appeared in the doorway. 

"Governor? A caller is here for you." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Down in the foyer stood a young man dressed in rough clothing and looking very out of place. He knew that he didn't belong in the shiny home of the Governor, but he didn't have much of a choice. Under his arm, he holds a long presentation case. This was the only sane reason why a commoner such as himself would be standing amid the crystal chandeliers and golden lamps of the manor. Nervously he held his weight on one foot and shined the toe of his boot on the back of his calves, knowing it wouldn't do much besides make his pants dirtier than they already were. 

"Ah, Mr. McClain! It's good to see you again!" Corran exclaimed genuinely as he descended the marble staircase. The man turns. He's grown up, and undeniably handsome, but there is a new watchfulness in his ocean blue eyes that gave him a weight beyond his years. 

"Good day, sir" He inclined his head politely whilst holding out the case. "I have your order." 

Corran smiled and hurried over. Gingerly he opened the case and peered at the craftsmanship cradled inside on fine velvet. he carefully pulled out the stunning dress sword and scabbard. He held the blade reverently as if he were holding a priceless antique or a newborn babe. 

"The blade is forged steel," Lance continued, "That's gold filigree laid into the handle. If I may..." 

He carefully took the blade from Corran and balanced it on one finger, right where the blade met the guard. It did not move. 

"Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the full width of the blade..." 

"Impressive," Corran bobbed his head in appreciation, "very impressive. Commodore Allura will be pleased, I'm sure. Do pass my compliments on to your master." 

The light that had gathered in Lance's eyes fell. Could the governor not see that the blade was his work? This was his masterpiece, he'd spent countless hours working on it and was proud of how it had turned out! 

With practiced ease and a good deal of grace, Lance flipped the blade around and caught it by the hilt. Repressing a sigh, he returned it to the case. He faced the governor and gave a slight bow. 

"I shall. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated..." 

The words died in his throat as Zephyr stole the breath from his lungs. What diety was playing with him now? Was that pang in his heart the sharp pinch of Cupid's arrow? Or was it Aphrodite herself descending the staircase clad in blood-red velvet? Lance stared at the contrast between the familiar pale skin and the red; the raven-black hair falling elegantly around a gentle face and down boyish shoulders. 

That coat may have been painful to Keith, but to Lance, he swore on his grave that the being before him was a god come to Earth to torment him. 

"Keith!" Corran exclaimed, instantly lighting up at the sight of his son, "You look stunning!" 

Lance tried to force his throat to obey him and form words, but the grip of the Western Wind refused to loosen. Instead, he smiled and nodded empathetically. Keith returned his smile, dark eyes sparkling with joy. 

"Lance! It's so good to see you!" He subconsciously rested his hand on the hilt of his stolen blade, now secure around his waist. 

"I dreamt about you last night." 

That finally shocked Lance out of his stupor. "Really?" He asked in surprise. Corran glared ruefully at his son. 

"Keith, this is hardly appropriate..." 

Keith ignored his father, "about the day we met. Do you remember?" 

"I could never forget it, Mister Kogane." 

Keith scoffed at his formality. They had been friends for years, there was no need for that stuffiness. 

"Lance, how many times must I ask you to call me 'Keith'?" 

Lance smiled sadly at him. How he wished he could. Not that the beauty before him would ever know that. 

"At least once more, Mister Kogane. As always." 

Keith felt the joy die in his breast at his response. Were they, not friends? Did he not like him as one? He quickly looked away to hide the hurt filling his gaze. Corran puffed up in pride at Lance's response. 

"Well said! There's a boy who understands propriety. Now, we must be going." 

He carefully took the case from Lance and opened the door. 

Keith straightens his back and steeled his nerve, wiping all traced of hurt and shame from his face like he'd perfected over the years. This was not the Keith Lance knew and loved, this was Mister Kogane, the Governor's son. Untouchable and aloof. 

Keith strode past Lance after his father. 

"Good day, Mr. McClain." 

Corran followed his son out into the day, leaving Lance standing forlorn in the foyer of the mansion he had no more business being in. Lance watched as Keith and Governor Corran climbed into the waiting carriage. 

"Good day...Keith." 

In the carriage, Corran glared at his son, ashamed by his earlier behavior. 

"Son, I do hope you demonstrate a bit more decorum in front of Commodore Allura. After all, it is only through her efforts that Port Arus has become civilized at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventure really begins in the next installment, be patient.


	3. Shock Factor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Clearly you’ve never been to Singapore”

Somewhere out in the bay, four skeletal remains clad in buccaneer rags hang from the gallows, their rope necklaced tied to a rocky promontory. They hang there, occasionally being blown around by the wind like a set of gruesome wind chimes. On a fifth noose hangs a sign. 

Pirates---Ye Be Warned 

In front of the henious sight, a single white sail passes regally, and on the landward face of the sail, high in the rigging, stood a small figure whom the term 'swashbuckling rogue' was coined: Pigde Holt. 

The lass's keen, coppery gaze fell upon the spectalce of the skeletons as she passed. Tilting her head and raggad hat respectivly, she raised a tankard in salute to her fallen fellows. 

She was a small girl, but that didn't daunt her in the slightest when something below caught her gaze. Her eyes widdened in alarm and she lept down from her perch to the deck...roughly 20 feet blow her. 

Her great ship was not an imposing three-mast wonder of the sea, but a small fishing dory with a single sail, plowing through the calm waters of the harbor, and leaking. 

Water splashed around her ankles as she bailed the sea back to where it belonged and made her way aft to the tiller. Using a single sheet to control the sail, she brought her leaking vessle around the promontory and witnessed the spetacle that was Port Arus laid out before her like a feast. But her attention was truly occupied with the two ships docked in the harbor: The HMS _Yellow_ and the HMS _Firecat_. 

The _Yellow_ was impressive with her size, as all dreadnoughts were, but it was the _Firecat_ the drew Pidge's gaze. She was a small, sleek vessle with rail guns and a morter in the middle of her main deck. She was perfect for him. The only issue was that she was tied up at the Naze landing, at the base of the clifts below Fort Alfor. 

Pidge smoothly and calmly hauled down the sail, stowed it, and guided her dory alongside the dock. However, at this point, most of it was under water, so all her short little legs had to do was step from the top of the main mast onto the dock where a harbormaster waited. Under his arm was a long ledger. The harbormaster gaped at her in disbelief. 

"If you're out rolling scruppers in this rub, you're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid." 

"It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide," She replied smoothly. She started up the dock, strapping on her blade. She carried nothing else on her person save for a compass, pistol, and a small powder horn. She hadn't gone more than five steps before the harbormaster cut her off. 

"It's a shilling for the dock space, and you're going to have to give me your name." 

Pidge glanced at his sunken vessle and rolled her eyes."What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the name." 

She deftly tossed three shilling onto the ledger. The harbormaster glanced at her in shock before slamming the ledger shut on the coins. He stepped aside gladly and swept an arm out in welcome. 

"Welcome to Port Arus Ms. Smith." 

Pidge glared but gave him a half-salute as she walked past. Her gaze once again traveled across the water towards the _Firecat_ and a smile made it's way onto her face. 

This was going to be intersting...especially with the ceremony underway at the fort above.

\----

High atop the cliffs, the rat-a-tat-tat of snare drums and the melodious warble of pipes filled the stone courtyard as rows upon rows of uniformed Marines marched in mind numbing precision to “Rule Altea.” Groups of spectators dressed to the nines stood around the edge, dismal in the summer heat. Keith stood behind his father. The snares began to roll, the marines formed their lines and presented their arms as Captain Allura made her appearance. She marched under the silent archway of steel bayonetts to where Governor Corran and another uniformed officer were waiting. With choreographed precision, Corran took the sword and scabbard from the presentation case, held by the officer. He slid the sword into the scabbard and held it out vertically to Allura. 

She was in her full dress uniform, which consisted of crisp white stockings underneath a knee length white frock accented with gold edging and decorative buttons. Overtop she wore a fitted navy blue coat with white cuffs and lapels, accented with more golden thread and buttons. Her long silver hair was pulled away from her face and cascaded down her back in waves. 

Keith fanned himself. Who had the brilliant idea to make this coat out of velvet? 

Allura grasped the scabbard above Corran’s hand. Corran let go and Allura drew the blade, observed the excellent craftsmanship, and snapped it up in front of her face. Corran stepped forward and pinned a medal to her jacket. 

Keith fanned himself harder. Where were the clouds when you needed them? He felt sweat roll down his back underneath the tight cloth. 

Allura nodded and turned smartly to face her fellow officers and the assembled crows of dignitaries, merchants, plantation owned, and their families. She gave one more flourish of her new blade before returning it to her scabbard. 

The court erupted into applause and the marines slapped her back in congradulations. 

Keith didn’t feel to good. The jacket was far too tight, and he was too hot beneath the clear sky. He tried to applaud before wincing. Discreetly he tried to adjust the jacket before resuming clapping, trying to hide his discomfort.

Back at the docks, two uniformed marines were taking advantage of what little shade they could find. Despite the lethargy brought on by the heat of the day, both soldiers were on their feet and alert when Pidge decided to stroll over. 

“This dock is off limits to civilians,” The smaller of the two said. Pidge smiled cheerily. 

“Sorry, I didn't know. If I see any I’ll be sure to inform you.” 

She tried to slip past them, seeing as how they didn’t strike her as the smartest of people. However they both moved quickly to block her. Pidge was genuinely thrown for a second. Those two didn’t appear to be all that bright. A lively tune drifted down from the fort, drawing the attention of the three on the dock. 

“Some sort of to-do up at the fort eh?” She shielded her eyes against the harsh sunlight. One of the soldiers looked wistfully at the fort while the other tried his best to school his face into something neutral. Pidge raised an eyebrow. “You two weren’t invited?” 

The one guard shrugged sadly, “No...someone has to make sure this dock stays off-limits to civilians.” 

Pidge fixed her eyes on the _Yellow_ again, her quick mind cooking up a plan so half-cocked that it might actually work. She leaned back on her heels. 

“That must be some important boat.” 

“Ship.” A guard quickly said. 

“Ship.” She said again. The other guard on duty, his identification said Griffin...unusual name, jumped in. He appeared to be more intellectually inclined than his friend. 

“Captain Allura’s made it her flagship. She’ll use it to hunt down the last dregs of piracy on the Spanish Lake.” His friend nudged him. 

“Commodore.” 

“Right,” Griffin said, “Commodore Allura.” 

Pidge nodded as if the proper title to one gung-ho marine was the most interesting and important thing to date. 

“That’s a fine goal, I’m sure…but it seems to me that a ship like that,” she tossed her head in the direction of the _Firecat_, “makes this one here just a wee superfluous.” 

Griffin’s partner puffed up a bit. 

“Oh, the _Yellow_ is the power in these waters, true enough...but there’s no ship that can match the _Firecat_ for speed.” 

“That so?” Pidge grinned and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of one, supposed to be fast, nigh uncatchable…,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “the _Black Lion_.” 

Griffin scoffed, trying to contain his laughter at the children’s tale. No adult worth her salt should still believe in the story. 

“There’s no real ship that can match the _Firecat_ for speed.” He put an extra emphasis on the word ‘real'. His partner, his tag read ‘Kinkaid” looked at him incredulously. 

“The _Black Lion_ is a real ship.” 

Griffin was gobsmacked. Not his partner! 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Yes it is. I’ve seen it.” Kinkaid insisted. 

“You’ve seen the _Black Lion_?” If he actually had he’d eat his own uniform and march up to the fort in the nude. 

“Yes.” 

“You haven’t seen it.” 

“Yes I have!” He whined. Griffin was done with this. 

“You’ve seen a ship with black sails that’s crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out?” 

Kinkaid looked away. “...no.” 

“No.” 

“But I have seen a ship with black sails.” Kinkaid tried again. 

“Oh,” Griffin exploded. This was getting ridiculous. 

“And no ship that’s not crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out could possibly have black sails...and therefore couldn’t possible by any ship other than the _Black Lion_? It that what you’re saying?” 

Kinkaid had shrunk to about half his usual size under his barrage and squeaked a shamefully pitiful ‘no.’ Pidge almost felt bad for him. Griffin turned his attention back to Pidge. 

“Like I said,” he sniffed smugly, “there’s no real ship as can match…HEY!” Pidge had vanished. Griffin and Kinkaid spun around, frantically scanning the dock for the pint-sized pirate. They spotted her standing at the wheel of the _Yellow_, casually examining the mechanism with the keen attention of someone first seeing a ship’s wheel. 

“YOU! GET AWAY FROM THERE!” Griffin dashed up the gangplank with Kinkiad close behind. “You don’t have permission to be aboard there!” Pidge looked up at them in exaggeratedly innocent surprise and spread her hands by way of apologizing. 

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled, “it’s just such a pretty boat.” 

Kinkaid and Griffin studied Pidge suspiciously. They’d never seen this lass before, and they couldn’t have a stranger running around the Port Arus docks unchecked. 

“What’s your name?” Griffin asked. 

“Smith,” Pidge replied smoothly. The guards gave each other a side-eye. 

“What’s your business in Port Arus, ‘Ms. Smith?’” Kinkaid sneered, gripping his gun a little tighter. 

“And no lies!” Griffin added. Both soldiers inclined their bayonets towards Pidge. 

“None?” She asked, fighting back a grin, “Very well, You’ve rumbled me. I confess: I intend to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Capes-Allm, and go out on the account to do a little honest pirating.” She gave a mad grin and flourished her hand out to where the Firecat was moored. Griffin and Kinkiad’s jaws dropped to the deck. 

“I said no lies.” Griffin whined. Kinkaid gave him a look. 

“I think she’s telling the truth.” 

“She’s not telling the truth.” 

“She might be.” 

Griffin rounded on his partner. Honestly, how could someone employed in the royal navy be so incredibly stupid? 

“If she were telling the truth, she wouldn’t have told us!” 

“Unless of course,” Pidge chimed in, “She knew you wouldn’t believe the truth if she told it to you.” 

Griffin and Kinkaid looked at each other. She had a point. 

\------------

Keith, pale and perspiring enough to fill a bathtub, fanned himself weakly. He was completely oblivious to the music and chatter going on around him. Damn this coat! 

“May I have a moment?” Allura appeared out of nowhere, extending her arm. Normally it wasn’t exactly appropriate for a lady to approach a man in this way, but then again, it wasn’t exactly appropriate for a lady to hold a military position either. 

Keith took her arm and together they removed themselves from the party towards the parapet. Allura had fallen uncomfortably silent, trying to work up her nerve. 

“You look lovely, Keith.” She burst out. Keith frowned, unable to force his oxygen-deprived brain to focus. Allura mistook his expression as disapproval and quickly moved to explain herself. 

“I apologize if I seem forward...but I must speak my mind.” She fell silent again, her supposed forwardness failing as nerves overcame her again. Keith continued to fan himself. 

“This...promotion, confirms that I have accomplished the goals I set for myself in my career: a most controversial career, but of which I am most proud.” 

She paced, trembling hands clasped behind her back. Was she really going to do this? 

“But it also casts into sharp relief that which I have not achieved: a marriage to a fine gentleman.” 

She paused. Oh yes, she was doing this. It was now or never. 

“You have become a fine gentleman, Keith.” 

Keith felt his throat close. He stopped feeling the stifling breeze from his fan and his chest squeezed painfully. He choked. 

“I can’t breathe.” The jacket was too tight, the sun was too hot. Black dots swarmed the edges of Keith’s vision. 

Allura, oblivious to his discomfort, smiled to herself. She had really done it. Granted they were both a little nervous, but Keith hadn’t said no, outright! 

“Yes...I’m a bit nervous, myself…” 

Keith lost his balance and stumbled away from Allura, her words ringing as the world tilted sideways. He reached out for the parapet to steady himself, but found nothing but open air. 

Powerless, he vanished over the side of the wall. 

Allura turned around, confused as to why he wasn’t saying anything, and saw him topple over. 

“KEITH!” 

————

Pidge saw the man dressed in Scarlett plummet from the parapets and shoved Kinkaid out of the way to get a better look.  


The three watched in disbelief as he fell, taking a long time to reach the sea.  


The man hit the water, narrowly missing the sharp rocks at the base of the cliff. The wave rushed in and they watched as it carried the man in red, now struggling feebly against the tide, out to the open water.  


——-

Allura’s eyes searched for Keith’s red coat among the water.  


“KEITH!”  


She leapt to the top of the parapet and stripped her coat, preparing to dive after her beloved. A Lieutenant by the name of Leifsdottir, caught her arm and tried to pull her down.  


“The rocks, Ma’ame! It’s a miracle he missed them!”  


Allura shook her off in a huff and looked down. To her dismay, Leifsdottir was right, it was a mirricale that Keith had missed the rocks.  


She sprang down from the parapet and dashed for the exit, praying that it wasn’t too late.  


———-  


Pidge, Griffin, and Kinkaid stared at the spot where the man in red had vanished, still in shock from the sight. Pidge glanced at the soldiers.  


“Aren’t you going to save him?” Griffin shook his head.  


“I can’t swim.”  


Pidge turned to Kinkaid. They had to be joking. Surely the royal navy would make sure that their sailors were waterproof, right?  


Kinkaid shook his head as well. Pidge rolled her eyes.  


“Pride of the Royal Navy, you are.”  


High above them, Allura and a group of soldiers pick their way down the cliff, too far away to get to Keith in time. Pidge saw this, and scowled. It pissed her off. She had no choice now.  


“Fine,” she growled. She stripped herself of her pistol and handed it to Kinkaid. She then handed her belt to Griffin.  


“Don’t lose these.” She told them before diving into the water and swimming towards the man in red.  


Keith gasped for air, struggling under the weight of soaked velvet. A swell rolled over him, and the sea welcomed him into her deep, dark, unforgiving arms.  


—-  


He drifted down, unconscious. The current caught hold of him and turned him slowly, tugging the knife free from his scabbard. It had never fit quite right anyhow.  


The knife turned slowly before catching on the coat, the marking on it’s hilt catching a shaft of filtered sunlight. It glinted.  


High atop the fort, the Altean flag twisted proudly in an offshore breeze. The wind died. The flag went limp.  


On the docks, the wood and metal fittings stopped banging against the masts, causing an eerie silence.  


On the far edge of town, a woman frown when her chicken go silent as she fed them.  


In the town, a weather vane stopped its movement. All it still, all is silent. Then…  


...the vane turns. The wind has picked up again, but now it comes from the sea towards the land.  


On the beach, an old fisherman pauses his work and gazes at the sky, a frown tugging at his weather-beaten flesh. The mangy hound at his side started barking incessantly.  


The lines on the docks bang against the masts, the wind far stronger than what it had been.  


The flag atop the fort flies in the opposite direction, snapping in the onshore breeze.  


Allura continues her rush to the sea, intent on her decent. Beyond her, past the rocky point, fog gathers on the far horizon.  


The knife drifts back down into the scabbard, catching just so the hilt is still visible. Then, Pidge is there, wrapping her arms around Keith and making for the surface.  


She swims for the dock, struggling. She grunts. This is far more difficult than it should be. She stops stroking and dives back under the waves. Once she was underwater, she realized that the weight of Keith’s clothes were dragging them down and quickly tries to strip the heavy velvet off. The buttons on the jacket stick tight. She strips off what she can and kicks away, the discarded clothing falling into the dark abyss.  


Back at the docks, Griffin and Kinkaid haul Keith out of the water. Pidge climbed up after them, exhausted.  


Keith was on his back; Kinkaid held his arms over his head, pumping them. Griffin had put his cheek near his nose and mouth.  


“Not breathing.” He called out. Kinkaid looked as though all hope was lost. Pidge quickly took his dagger from its sheath.  


“Move.” She shoved Griffin out of the way and kneeled over Keith, knife raised. Kinkaid reaches for his sheath in shock.  


Pidge slit the jacket down the middle and yanked it away. Keith remained still for a beat. And then...he coughed up water, gasping, choking on his first full breath. Pidge deflated in relief. Griffin looked between them.  


“I never would’ve thought of that.”  


“Clearly you’ve never been to Singapore.”  


She flipped the knife and handed it hilt-first to Kinkaid, and then she spotted something on Keith’s waist.  


Slowly, she pulled the knife from Keith’s holster. She turned it over in her hands.  


“Where did you get this?”


	4. The Virtue of Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the day you will remember as the day you _almost_ caught Captain Pidge Holt”

Before Keith could answer, the blade of a sword pressed against Pidge’s throat. Allura had arrived. It was her new blade at the young lass’ neck, gleaming bright and sharp and ready to have its first taste of blood. 

”On your feet.” Her lips pulled back in a sneer. Who was this pint-sized poppy to steal her moment? It was supposed to be her, Allura, to rescue Keith! It didn’t help Pidge’s case that she was standing over Keith who was bereft of most of his clothing. As they stood there, the rest of the party, including Governor Corran, arrived on scene. 

”Keith!” Corran stripped off his jacket and draped it over his son, “are you all right?” 

Keith gladly took the garment. “Yes...yes, I’m fine.” He turned his attention to the two women locked in stalemate. “Commodore Allura, do you intend to kill my rescuer?” 

Allura glared at Pidge, who nodded as best she could with steel beneath her chin. Allura relented and sheathed her sword. She extended her hand. 

“I believe thank are in order.” 

Pidge gingerly shook Allura’s hand only for the commodore grip to tighten. Allura yanked Pidge forward and tore back the sleeve of her shirt. A painful looking brand glared pink against her tan flesh: a large ‘P.’ Allura smirked. 

”Had a brush with the Galra Empire, did you...pirate?” 

The noblemen gaped in shock but the soldiers were well-trained. In an instant, half a dozen pistols were aimed at Pidge. She stood there, still holding the red jacket. Allura never took her eyes off the lass. 

”Keep your guns on her. Leifsdottir, fetch some irons.” Something just below the brand caught her eye: a small tattoo of a green lion-print and a feather. 

”Well, well...Pidge Holt, isn’t it.” 

”Captain Pidge Holt. If you please.” Pidge made sure to place extra emphasis on the word captain. She refused to be belittled by this old biddy.

Allura scoffed and looked out towards the bay. Not a ship in sight save for the navy vessels. 

”I don’t see your ship...Captain.” This was too funny. Pidge grit her teeth to keep from launching herself at the commodore. 

”I’m in the market, as it turns out.” 

Griffin and Kinkaid decided that this was the opportune moment to step in. 

”She said she’d come to commandeer one.” Griffin said. Kinkaid rolled his eyes. 

”I told you she was telling the truth.” He quickly handed Pidge’s pistol and belt to Allura. “These are her’s, Ma’am.” 

Allura took her time examining the items. She noted the powder horn attached to the belt. 

”Extra powder, but no additional shot,” she addressed Pidge. The lass shrugged. Allura unhooked the compass from the belt and opened it. She frowned and moved the compass this way and that, making sure to keep the instrument parallel to the ground. The reading never changed. 

”A compass that doesn't point North.” This got some titters from the crowd. Pidge had the decency to look ashamed. Allura returned the compass to the belt and drew the halfway out from the scabbard. She looked to Pidge in disbelief. 

”And I half expected it to be made of wood.” She re-sheathed the blade and handed everything to Griffin. 

”You are without a doubt the worst pirate I have ever heard of.” 

Pidge smiled, “Ah, but you have heard of me.” 

Leifsdottir returned with the shackles and started forward. 

”Carefully, Lieutenant.” Allura cautioned. Keith stepped forward, Corran’s jacket sliding off. He didn’t really care, but his father was intent on putting it back on him. 

”Commodore, I must protest. Pirate or not this woman saved my life.” 

Allura didn’t bat an eyelash. “One good deed is not enough to redeem a lady of a lifetime of wickedness.” 

The shackles snapped closed on Pidge’s wrists. 

”But it seems to be enough to condemn her.” 

Allura smiled, “Indeed.” 

With Pidge safely chained, Allura say fit to allow her soldiers to relax. All but one lowered their weapons. Two stepped forward to detain Pidge. 

”Finally,” she groaned. 

Before anyone could move she snapped the jacket around the hand and wrist of the soldier holding the pistol and jerked. The pistol sailed into the water. She had the manacles’ chains wrapped around Keith’s neck before anyone could draw their weapons. 

Keith now served as her shield from the soldiers’ guns. Allura raised a cautioning hand to her troops. Pidge started backing away towards the land. 

”Commodore Allura...my pistol and belt please.” 

Allura balled her fists and hesitated. Pidge groaned in frustration and tightened her grip on Keith. 

”Commodore!” 

Griffin handed Pidge’s pistol and belt to Allura. Allura begrudgingly held them out to Pidge. The lass grinned. 

”Keith...it is Keith?” 

”Mr. Kogane.” Keith spat back. He was more angry than frightened at this point, soaking wet, and wanted to go home. Pidge’s grin widened. 

”Mr. Kogane, it you’ll be so kind?” 

Keith took the belt and pistol from Allura. Pidge was quicker though, and swiped the pistol from his grip. She jerked him around so they were face to face, belly to belly. 

”Now, if you’ll be so kind?” 

Keith grit his teeth and put the belt back around Pidge’s waist. “You’re despicable” he spat as he worked. Pidge smiled again. 

”I saved your life; now you’ve saved mine. We’re square.” 

She turned Keith again and backed up until she bumped against the cargo gantry. 

”Gentleman...M’lady...this is the day you will remember as the day you _almost_ caught Captain Pidge Holt!” 

She shoved Keith away from her and grabbed a rope, pulling a belaying pin free. A counterweight dropped and Pidge was rocketed up the middle of the gantry where she grabbed a second rope. Allura’s soldiers opened fire, missing Pidge by mere inches. Pidge swung out and away from the gantry. 

Allura pulled her gun and leveled her shot. Carefully, she tracked Pidge’s trajectory. Pidge dropped from the rope as Allura fired. The shot tears the rope, but Pidge had already caught one of the guy lines with the chain of her manacles. She slid down, dropped to the deck of a ship and bolted for the town. 

“ON HER HEELS!” Allura shouted. “Leifsdottir, bring a squad down from the fort.” She turned her attention to the noblemen. 

“Keith, are you…” 

“Yes, I’m all right, I’m fine! Go get her!” 

Allura was taken aback by his ire and wisely scurried away after Pidge. Corran draped his coat over his son again. 

“Here, son...you should wear this.” 

Keith shivered, finding that all the warmth of the tropics had left him. He glanced out at the bay and spotted the thick fog moving across the water. He took the coat. 

“Thank you, Father...and let that be the last of your fashion advice, please.” 

But he accepted his comforting embrace anyway.


	5. Lessons in Chivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re lucky boy. This shot’s not meant for you.”

The fog crept through the town, darkening the day into an eerie twilight. The streets are mostly deserted save for the armed squadrons clattering up and down the cobblestones, checking each house, breaking down doors, hunting for the pirate. Their red coats the only spot of color for miles. One party stops to check an alley and the commanding officer nods to a fellow soldier at the far end. The parties move on... 

A sword slips from the anvil of a blacksmith. Pidge slinks out from behind a stack of supplies in the shop where she’s taken refuge, manacles still attached to her wrists. She glances at the retreating backs of the soldiers before darting across the open square. Across from her is a shop with barn doors, and it was there she intended to hide until nightfall when she could slip out of town unseen. The pint-sized pirate dove inside the through-door, ignoring the sign bearing an anvil swinging above. 

The shop had no windows, so the dark interior of the shop was lit mostly by lanterns. Pidge cast her eye into every corner. Works in progress lay scattered about the forge: wagon wheels, wrought iron gates, pipes...was that a canon? Despite the haphazard organization, the workbench was neat and tidy; every tool was in its place. 

”SNORT” 

Pidge jumped back, startled, and reached for her sword only to be met with the sight of the blacksmith: One Mr. Sendak, dressed in a soiled blacksmith’s apron, curled up fast asleep in the corner. Clutched in his fatty fist was a bottle. Pidge approached him slowly, blade at the ready. She poked him with the toe of her boot once... 

Twice... 

Nothing. Sendak slept on. Pidge smirked and sheathed her blade, content that he would be little trouble to her. She moved to the tools and hefted a short-handled sledgehammer from its place. 

CLANG... 

CLANG... 

She beat the stupid chain to no avail: whoever had made the manacles was damn good at their job. Nothing short of a miracle was freeing her wrists from their confines. Frustrated, she eyes the glowing coals in the furnace, already grimacing at the thought of melting the manacles off. Her eyes slid from the furnace to the pokers nestled off to the side. 

Then back to the coals. 

Then to the donkey chained to the circular contraption in the center of the forge. 

Then to the gears at the top of the contraption. 

The poor donkey squealed and jolted forwards when Pidge touched the hot poker to its flank, starting the contraption moving. She hooked the chain into one of the slots where the two gears fit together, feet dangling above the ground... 

The chain snapped in two! she was free! 

The latch to the door jiggled. Pidge looked up, started, and dove for cover. The guards must’ve found her! 

Lance plodded into the forge and seeing the poor donkey, rushed over to calm the poor beast. As he whispered soothingly and stroked its nose, he took the time to survey the forge. There was Mr. Sendak, still asleep in the corner. 

“Right where I left you.” 

And there was the empty peg, the sledgehammer still lying on the anvil. Lance’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

"Not where I left you...” 

His gaze traveled further...to the three-point hat resting on the tool bench where Pidge had dumped it. 

He slowly reached for it, his fingers just brushing the smooth leather, when the flat of a blade slapped against his wrist. Lance jumped back. A small, copper-headed lass wearing dirty rags and wielding a very sharp sword glared at him from the shadows behind the anvil. Lance glowered. 

"You’re the one they’re hunting,” His voice was low and tight, “the _pirate_” 

Pidge tipped her head...then stopped. This boy looked familiar...where had she seen those eyes before? She frowned. 

"You look familiar, have I threatened you before?” 

Lance bit back a growl, “I’ve made a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates.” 

"Ah, then it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record,” Pidge moved towards the door, “So if you’ll excuse me.” 

Before she could get far Lance had grabbed a blade off of a nearby grindstone and leveled it at her throat. Pidge halted. Ordinarily, she may have humored the lad, given him a few pointers, but she was not in the mood today. The guards could appear at any moment. She needed to leave. 

She turned back to him, cocking an eyebrow. 

"Do you think this is wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?” 

Lance took an en garde position, his feet spread comfortably, weight perfectly balanced over his hips, blade at the ready: it was textbook form. Pidge resisted the urge to purse her lips. The lad knew what he was doing, there was no doubt. 

“You threatened Mr. Kogane.” Lance’s teeth curled back in a snarl. Pidge smiled devilishly and took and slowly slid her sword along Lance’s blade, the gentle screech of steel on steel grating in both of their ears. 

“Only a little!” 

Pidge struck first... 

Thrust... 

Parrie.... 

Feint... 

The clang of Steele rang about the dusty shop as the two battle blow for blow, neither gaining an advantage over the other. 

”You know what you're doing, I’ll give you that,” Pidge parried a thrust from Lance. “Excellent form...but how’s your footwork? If I step here...” 

She took a step around an imaginary circle. Lance stepped in the other direction, keeping the lass in front of him at all times. Blows flew back and forth across the circle. Pidge nodded. 

“Very good, and if I step again, you step again...” 

They circled each other like dogs, trading blow for blow. Lance’s eyes never leaving Pidge’s. 

Pidge smiled and stopped, taking a little bow, and sheathed her sword. 

”Ta!” 

They were exactly opposite to how they had started. Nothing stands in the way of Pidge’s great escape save empty air. Lance registers this with angry surprise. Then he did something incredibly stupid: he hurled his blade... 

The sword buried itself in the door, just above the latch and an inch away from Pidge’s face. She froze, eying the quivering steel. Slowly, she pinched it between her finger, stopping its motion. 

She tried the latch, only to find that the blade won’t move, effector locking the door. She tried to pull the sword free to no avail, it was stuck tight. She mouthed a curse and turned back to Lance, smiling; but this wasn’t a happy smile. Anyone could see the malice in her eyes. 

“That’s a good trick. Except, once again, you are between me and my way out.” She redrew her blade, “and now you have no weapon.” 

In response, Lance grabbed the closest thing to him: the hot coal poker. The poor donkey brayed and started moving, Pidge’s eyes zeroed in on the glowing red tip. 

She leaped forward, and the echoes of steel on steels rang out, accompanied by sizzles and sparks from where sword met coal poker. Lance swung wide, knocking into a support post, giving Pidge an opportunity to use the chain still attached to her manacle to relieve Lance of the poker. 

Lance had another sword in his hand before Pidge could register her small victory and she realized that the entire room was filled with blades: swords, knives, axes...it was practically an armory. 

”Who makes all these?” She asked, astounded by the sheer number. Lance parried her blow, fighting the grin trying to sneak onto his face. 

“I do!,” he ducked a blow, “and I practice with them,” thrust, “at least three hours a day!” 

Pidge shook her head in pity, “You need to find yourself A lover.” 

Lance ground his teeth and swung. Pidge smirked. 

”Or maybe the reason you practice three hours a day is you’ve found one...but can’t get them?” 

Bingo...Lance’s body coiled with anger and he started to throw attacks with more force than what was really necessary. 

”No,” His blade clashed with Pidge’s, “I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate...I can kill it!” 

He exploded, kicking a rack of swords; one fell into hand and he used his foot to bring his previously dropped blade into the air. He caught it and launched himself at Pidge, both blades flashing in the dim light. 

Pidge parried with sword and chain. Lance lunged forwards and Pidge quickly wrapped the chain around the blade, hoping to yank it out of his hand. Lance, however, twisted the hangle of his guard through a link and stabbed the sword to the ceiling, effectively trapping Pidge's hand. 

The Pint-sized pirate parried with one hand, twisting and dodging this way and that around the furnace. She grabbed a random line handing down and sent a cascade of dirt into Lance's face, knocking him down. Pidge grabbed the chain and hoisted herself up. It took her full weight pushing against the ceiling to dislodge the blade. 

Lance picks himself up and cleared to dirt from his eyes, blade in hand. He spun around, ready to attack Pdige again only to be met with the cold metal of a gun barrel pointed right between his eyes. He quickly stepped back to block the exit. 

"You cheated." 

Pidge grinned, "pirate, remember?" 

She took a step forwards, Lance moved back, fully blocking the door. Pidge growled. 

"Move aside." 

"No." 

"MOVE!" 

"NO!" Lance's voice was firm and unwavering, "I can not just step aside and let you escape." 

Pidge cocked the gun and held it level, staring Lance in the face. 

"This shot's not meant for you." 

Lance stared right back at her. The stand-off lasted for only a moment before a bottle came crashing down on Pidge's head and she collapsed, revealing the blacksmith. The doors to the shop crashed open and a regiment of guards, including Commador Allura, poured in. 

Allura pushed her way to the front of the crowd and smiled down at Pidge's body. 

"Excellent work, sir. You've aided in the capture of a dangerous fugitive.”

The blacksmith nodded his head, broken bottle still clutched in his fist. It was a miracle he was awake at all, much less functioning at a level akin to sobriety.

”Just doing my civic duty.” 

Allura smugly smiled down at a groaning Pidge. 

”Gentlemen, today is the day you will remember, as the day Captain Pidge Holt _almost_ escaped.” 

Her men hauled Pidge to her feet and hauled her off. Lance watched her go with grim satisfaction, scarcely bothered that his efforts had once again gone unnoticed. His master suddenly took notice of the broken bottle clutched in his beefy hand. 

”...that rattler broke my bottle.”


	6. The Damned and the Dane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...I invoke the right of Parlay! According to the Code of the Brethren, set down by the pirates Morgan and Bartholomew, you must take me to your captain!”

Fog, thick and grey, covered the entire bay with this murky gloom, obscuring everything save the Fort night atop the bluffs, like the tallest mast of the sailing ships.

Despite the gloom, the sky above the fort was clear and black and spangled with stars twinkling beside the glowing moon. The silvery light cast an eerie gleam over the fort and fog.

Just below the stone parapets, visible briefly in the depth of the gloom was the mast of a ship. It sliced through the fog like a shark’s fin, heading towards the town. Black sails billowed from her masts and flapping at the top of her mast was a black flag flying flying a most unusual mark.

The _Black Lion_ had come to Port Arus.

* * *

Inside the Governor’s Manor, a maid servant removed a bed warmer from the fireplace and slipped it between the sheets at the end of Keith’s bed. Keith was propped up on a mountain of pillows, a book open on his lap.

”There you go sir, you wouldn’t want to catch a cold after the day you’ve had!”

”I suspected Commodore Allura would propose but i must admit, I wasn’t entirely prepared for it.” He turned a page.

”Well, I meant you being threatened by that pirate...sounds terrifying!”

Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If he was being completely honest he was more angry than terrified. What kind of man used another as a human shield! And after saving his life!

”Oh yes, it was terrifying.” The maid smiled. Keith was starting to not like this maid.

”But the Commodore proposed!” She sounded so exited. Keith wished he felt the same. “Fancy that. Now, that’s a smart match sir, if its not too bold of me to say.”

“It is a smart match. She’s a fine woman. A woman few men would dream of marrying despite her achievements.”

“Well that Lance McClain. He’s a fine one as well.”

Keith looked up from his book. His face was stony even in the warm light cast by the reading lamp.

“That is to bold.”

“Begging your pardon, sir.” And she bowed and left, leaving Keith alone with his book and his thoughts. His fingers found the medallion around his neck.

The lamp on his bedside table began to flicker. Keith looked at it confused and reached over to turn it up. The lamp went out and the room went black.

* * *

Back in the smith’s forge, Lance, minus a shirt and wearing a leather apron, held an iron ingot at the furnace. The metal glowed a brilliant yellow. Lance pulled it out and hammered it until it was flat.

Something at the doorway drew his attention and he strode over to peer out. A cat skittered away into the night, but Lance lost sight of it after it vanished into the fog. His hand reached for the brooding axe hanging on the wall.

He hefted it in his hand.

* * *

Up at Fort Alfor, a rangy mutt stood, holding a ring of keys in it’s mouth, just out of range of three seedy looking individuals. One held a rope, another a large femur bone. All three were cooing and calling to the mutt. It sat and cocked its head at them.

”Come here boy...come get the nice, juicy bone...”

In the cell next to them, her hat pulled over her eyes as she reclined on a pile of straw, was Pidge. She’d been listening to the three idiots since Allura and her men had thrown her in here.

“You can keep doing that forever, that dog’s never going to move.”

”Excuse us if we ain’t resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet!” One of the prisoners sniped at her.

Pidge blew out a breath and turned her head to look out the tiny window out into the harbor.

* * *

In the courtyard hung a noose, freshly tied and waiting for a neck to wring. Up on the walkway two guard made their evening rounds. Commodore Allura and Governor Coran walked along another wall.

”Has my son given you an answer yet?” The governor twirled his mustache. Allura’s head drooped.

”No. He hasn’t”

”Well, he had a very taxing day...” He just then noticed the fog that had taken hold of the bay.

“Ghastly weather tonight.”

”Bleak,” Allura agreed, “very bleak.”

BOOM!

”What was that?” Coran asked. Allura caught wind of a strange whistle coming towards them.

”CANON FIRE!” She tackled the governor as the parapet where they’d been standing exploded.

* * *

Back in the cell, Pidge sat up upon hearing the booms. She peered out of the window. The other prisoners quickly flocked to their own.

”It’s the _Black Lion_.”

One of the prisoners looked over to her. His jaw was almost on the floor.

”The _Black Lion_?” He turned to his friend, “I’ve heard stories...she’s been praying on ships and settlements for nigh ten years...and never leaves any survivors...”

”Then where do the stories come from?”

The prisoners stared at Pidge. She smirked and turned her attention back to the bay.

* * *

The dreaded ship was still obscured by the fog save for the sparks from her canons. She fired on both sides, hammering the Fort and the town simultaneously. 

In Port Aurs, streets, buildings, docks and ships shattered under the _Black Lion’s _onslaught. The citizens shrieked and ran for cover, dragging loved ones after them and dodging flying shrapnel. Someplace in the city center a lost boy screams for his mother. 

Hell had come, or so they thought...and the devils were on their way. 

The fog parted, birthing longboats bearing pirates armed to the teeth. Once the boats hit the beach the braggarts swarmed the sides, yelling their battle cries. 

They fell on the people with a vengeance, slashing left and right and setting fire to anything they could.

* * *

Lance slipped the boarding axe into his belt at the small of his back and armed himself with no less than three dirks. He picked up a second axe and a blade before turning to the door. 

He slid it back. 

A screaming woman ran by chased by a one-armed pirate dawning a yellow bandanna. Lance grunted and backhandedly swung the axe into the man’s chest. The Pirate crumpled. 

Lance gave one last glance in the direction of the woman before heading up the street.

* * *

At Fort Alfor, the view of the moon is marred by the smoke rising from the burning gallows and the wooden roofs. Cannon fire continued to rain down, but now the booms are joined by the guns of the Royal Navy.

Commadore Allura shoved Governor Coran back towards the Fort’s interior. 

“Governor! Barricade yourself in my office!” 

Coran hesitated. Keith was all alone at home! He needed to get back! Allura shoved her face into his, nearly taking him by the collar. 

“That’s an order!” 

Coran turned to go only to find himself face to face with a golden haired pirate with a fearsome haggard face. Behind the man, more pirates popped over the Fort walls. 

The pirate grinned and raised his cutlass. 

Allura yanked Coran behind her and raised her own blade to counter. 

“They’ve flanked us!” She shouted, drawing the attention of several marines, “Men! Swords and pistols!”

The Marines armed themselves as Coran was pulled to the safety of the inner Fort. 

Allura steeled herself...then she charged. 

* * *

At the Governor’s mansion, Keith looked out his window as the chaos below him. Even through the fog he could see that the town was burning. He could hear the screams and the canon fire...then he saw the gates to the mansion thrown open and a host of pirates swarm the grounds.

Good God how many where there!?

He bolted from his room and reached the railing overlooking the foyer just in time to see the butler aproach the door to answer the incessant banging. 

“No WAIT! He cried, but it was too late. The door was opened and a BOOM and the butler crumpled, shot between the eyes. 

Keith screamed and ducked down. He peered through the banisters and watched the pirates search the foyer. Then one pirate, with a balding head, looked up and saw him.

”Up there!” 

The pirates rushed for the stairs. Keith scrambled back and bolted for the nearest room. 

He slammed the doors behind him and threw the lock. The pirates pounded up the stairs. 

“Mr. Keith?” 

Keith jumped. Romelle was right behind him, her hands clutched to her chest. 

“Have they come to kidnap you?”

”What?” Keith must’ve misheard her. These braggarts were here to steal everything not nailed down! What use would they have for him?”

”You’re the governor’s son!” She insisted. Keith took her hands.

”Listen, Romelle, they haven’t seen you. Hide, and first chance, run for the fort.”

Romelle nodded. Something slammed at the door. It gave just a little. Keith quickly shoved Romelle into a corner between a tall wardrobe and the wall. He dashed for the side door.

The door to the room burst open, slamming into the wardrobe. Romelle was perfectly hidden. 

The pirates charged in and spotted the open side door. 

The bald pirate was the first through the door.

WHAM, Keith swung the bed warmed into his face. The pirate stumbled back, holding his nose. 

Romelle took advantage of Keith’s distraction and dashed out of the room. She glanced only once at the body of the butler before she was gone, headed for help. 

Keith swung the bed warmed at the second pirate, but the braggart caught it by the handle. Keith vainly tried to jerk it free. The pirate grinned.

Keith grinned back...and pulled the little lever on the side. The lid swung open and hot coals spilled onto the pirate’s head. He yowled and staggered back, giving Keith an opportunity to run. 

The pirates burst through the doors after him. One of the villains stayed hot on his heels, but Keith didn’t see the second pirate vault over the handrail and drop nimbly to the first floor. 

Romelle took the opportunity to sprint through the front door to freedom. She glanced down only briefly at the body of the butler, still lying in the foyer, and then she was gone. 

Keith pulled up short of following her when he saw the second pirate between himself and the door. In his distraction, the second pirate caught up to him and grabbed him by his hair. Keith felt a snarl bubble up in his throat as he spun and grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him belly first into the cap on the newel post. He let go of his breath and Keith’s hair with an “oomph.” 

Keith made a mad dash back up the stairs and fled into the dining room, slamming the doors shut behind him and trowing the bolts and jamming a candle stick in the handles for good measure. His heart pounded against his ribs as his eyes cast about the room frantically before landing on the two swords crossed above the fireplace. 

He leapt upon the firewood box, grasped the hilt of one of the blade and pulled as hard as he could.

The entire thing fell to the ground with a clatter, both blades still in their moorings. Keith found back a sob as he futilely tugged at the sword.

The doors to the room shook as something was rammed into them. Keith looked down at the useless swords.

The door rattled again, this time coming apart a little. The candle stick bending unnaturally.

He looked at the window.

On the third hit the doors slammed open and the two pirates burst into the room.

Empty.

The two men slowed their charge and cast critical eyes under the table. The looked up the chimney, behind the curtains, everywhere young man could hide.

“We know you’re here, poppet...”The first pirate crooned, “Come out come out. We promise we won’t hurt ya.” 

The pirate who’d gotten his face burned by embers glared at his friend. The first man sneered.

“We’ll find you poppet...you’ve got something of our, and it calls to us.”

From his hiding place Keith pulled the gold medallion out of his shirt as realization dawned on him. They were hunting his necklace!

“The gold calls to us!”

He didn’t dare to breathe. His thumb absentmindedly ran his thumb over the design. 

The little light that was shining into the cupboard vanished and Keith looked up. 

A single ugly eye peered in at him from the crack and cracked hairy lips split into a toothless smile. 

“Hello poppet.” 

The doors were wrenched open and the two pirates made ready to grab their prey. A desperate Idea slammed into his mind and Keith’s mouth wormed the words before he even had time to consider.

”PARLAY!” 

The pirate stopped and gaped at him. 

“What?” The first pirate snarled. Keith straightened his back and drew himself up to his full height. 

“I evoke the right of Parlay. According to the Code of the Brethren, set down by the pirates Morgan and Bartholomew, you must take me to your captain!” 

“I know the code.” The pirate sneered. 

“If an adversary demands parlay you can do them no harm until the parlay is complete.”

The pirate, he’d given the name Sendak to his captain, promised himself that he’d strangle this yapping runt the first chance he got. As it were he fought the sneer that tugged at his lips.

”It would appear, so do you.”

Sendak’s friend drew his cutlass.

”To blazes with the code!” 

He started forwards. He was going to cut up that pretty little face so every time the runt looked in the mirror he’d remember what he’d done to his own beauty. 

Sendak slammed an arm into his chest. 

“He wants to be taken to the captain,” He said slowly. He turned to Keith. “And he’ll go without a fuss.”

Keith pursed his lips and contemplated making a dash for the door. Instead he nodded. 

The burned pirate growled as he sheathed his blade. Sendak grabbed Keith by the arm and propelled him out of the mansion and back towards the town. As they left he gave a growling chuckle. 

“We must honor the code.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. It’s been kind of crazy transitioning to completely online curriculum and I’ve been swamped with scheduling stuff for next year and keeping up with my studio classes. Updates should pick up again once school calms down.


	7. An Unholy Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll tell you what, McClain. I’ve changed my mind. You spring me from this cell, and on pain of death, I’ll take you to the _Black Lion_.

Lance broke free of his challengers and looked through the smoke to the governor’s mansion. To his horror, he saw a painfully familiar being dragged away by two brigands.

Keith...

Lance started forward, only to be stopped by a sword swung from the shadows. He raised his weapon to defend himself and came face to face with a villain sporting a colorful bandanna. 

He faltered...did he not just kill this man? What was happening? 

His distraction was just enough for his foe to swing a lit torch into the back of his head. Lance’s vision went black and the ground rushed up to meet him. Dimly he heard the whooping and hollering of the pirates as they lit explosives and dashed off further into the down. 

Then he knew no more. 

* * *

Up in Fort Alfor, Pidge watched the chaos in the streets from her cell. Her copper eyes darting frantically between the ship and the pirates swarming the down. 

BOOM!

The cell walls exploded inwards. Pidge was buried in rubble and as she shimmied her way from under the debris she saw the blessed silver light of the moon coming from the gaping hole. 

Freedom!

And then her heart sank. The blast had centered on the cell next to hers. The bit of wall situated on her side was far to little for her to slip out of, even with her diminutive stature. 

The men next to her cheered and made their dash for freedom whilst she watched helplessly. One man stopped just before leaving and turned back to her.

”My sympathies, friend...you’ve no matter of luck at all!”

And then he was gone. 

Pidge was alone. Cannon fire continued to rain all around and the great fort shook under the bombardment, sending dust and debris raining down. The dog cowered beneath a long bench, the key still resting in its mouth. 

Pidge looked at the dog.

Then the bone in the other cell. 

She groaned in defeat.

”Here boy,” She waved the bone enticingly, “It’s all right doggie. Come here boy. Come here Spot...Rover...Fido?”

The dog looked up...then surged to his feet and stood unblinking at Pidge.

She waved the bone again.

”Come on you stupid mutt...”

The dog snorted and trotted away. 

“No nO NO! I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!” Pidge dropped the bone. It was hopeless, the dog was gone. 

Footsteps in the corridor leading to the cells drew her attention and to her surprise, a pair of familiar forms burst into the cell block. 

“This ain’t the armory.” The one called Zethrid muttered. She turned to leave and take her friend with her.

Then she spotted Pidge in the cell.

Zethrid turned with a sinister grin.

”Well well, look who we have here. It’s Captain Holt...Last time we saw you, you were all alone on a god-forsaken island, shrinking Into the distance.”

She looked over the bars and her former captain glaring at her from the corner of her cell. She smirked.

”Her fortunes aren’t improved much.” 

Zethrid and her friend laughed. Pidge ground her teeth and stepped forwards into the beams of moonlight. 

“Worry about your own fortunes,” she growled low, “the deepest circles of hell are reserved for betrayers...and _mutineers_.” 

Zethrid snarled and grabbed Pidge by the throat through the bars. Pidge clutched her..._bony_...wrist. She looked down.

In the silver light of the moon it was clear that Zethrid’s arm was devoid of all flesh and muscle. Pidge was holding the arm of a living skeleton. 

Her eyes went wide.

”So there is a curse.” She whispered.

Zethrid sneered and shoved Pidge backwards, hard. She retracted her arm and once again it took on the appearance of a fully organic limb. Pidge smiled to herself. Zethrid’s eyes burned like hellfire on Pidge’s form.

”You know nothing of hell.” 

And then they were gone and Pidge was alone again, with only cannon fire and mind for company. 

* * *

Keith was shoved aboard the shadowy galleon. The pirates stared. Sendak raised his voice to address the crowd as Keith scrambled to his feet.

”He’s invoked the right of parley with Captain Shiro!”

Keith drew himself up, ignoring the figure making its way down from the wheel. “I am here to...”

One of the pirates, an intimidating woman with short hair slapped him.

”You’ll speak when spoken to.” She raised her hand again.

The figure grabbed her wrist and held in a painfully tight grip. Keith stared.

The man was intimidating to be sure. He was broad, his arms chorded with muscle, and a whacked scar crossed the bridge of his nose, tickled by a shock of white fluff falling down from his neatly styled black hair. 

Despite the colorful clothes he wore and his kind eyes, Keith knew this was not a man you wanted to meet in a dark alley...or anyplace for that matter.

Shiro glared at the pirate who’d slapped Keith. 

“And you’ll not lay a hand on those under the protection of parley.” 

“Aye, sir.” Shiro released the pirate’s wrist. The pirate looked away, like a beaten dog. 

Shiro drew himself up and turned to Keith with a smile, a smile revealing both silver and gold teeth. 

“My apologies, sir. You were saying, before you were so..._rudely_...interrupted?”

”Captain Shiro,” Keith mustered every bit of courage he had, “I have come to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Arus.”

The gathered crowd muttered to each other. Keith’s face burned with embarrassment. 

Shiro shook his head, both impressed at the boy’s boldness and amused and fighting to keep the grin off his face. 

”There was a lot of long words in there boy...we’re not but humble pirates...”

He looked Keith in the eyes, all amusement gone. “What is it you want?”

”I want you to leave and never come back.” Were they serious? How hard was it to understand what he’d said?

The pirates erupted in laughter. Shiro tossed his lead back with his crew and howled at the boy’s words. When he looked back at him, amusement danced in his eyes and his face was split into a sinisterly innocent grin.

”I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”

Keith looked at him. Shiro tiled his head and leaned in a little closer.

”...means ‘no’.” 

Keith shrugged his shoulders, looking from the captain to his crew.

”Very well.”

He took off the necklace, it was what they’d come for anyway if the pirates from the mansion could be believed. 

Keith darted over to the side of the ship and climbed up on the railing before any of the pirates could grab him. He held the medallion over the side. The pirates froze. Keith’s mind whirred in desperation.

”I’ll drop it!”

Shiro snorted. “My holds are bursting with swag. Why should that bit of swag mean anything to me?”

”Because it’s what you’ve been searching for,” he was sure of it now, “you’ve been searching for it for years. I recognize this ship. I saw it eight years ago, on the crossing from England!”

”Did you now?” Shiro tilted his head. What was the boy playing at? 

Keith studied him. He wasn’t getting anyplace like this. Time for a new tactic. He shrugged again.

”Fine, I suppose it this is worthless...there’s no point in me keeping it.”

He let it drop, feels it catch on his finger.

”NO!” Shiro shrieked and lunged forwards.

Keith grabbed the chain and fixed the pirate captain in a triumphant grin. 

Shiro pulled his lips back in a snarl. 

“You got a name, boy?”

”Keith...,” He stopped himself before he could sat Kogane. He didn’t want to give these brigands his true name.

”...McClain...I’m a servant in the governor’s household.”

Shiro perked up at the name McClain. Behind him his crew exchanged glances. Shiro smiled at Keith.

”You’ve got sand...for a servant.”

Keith didn’t know whether to be insulted or take the compliment. So he settled for a simple ‘thank you sir.’

”And how does a servant come to own a trinket such as this?” Shiro pressed him for answers. “A family heirloom perhaps?”

”Perhaps,” Keith echoed him. A sudden instinct to defend his honor prompted him to continue.

”I didn’t steal it if that’s what you mean.”

Shiro laughed. This boy was among thieves and worried about what they thought of his honor. 

“No, no, nothing like that.” Shiro trailed off. He had to make a decision quickly.

”Very well. You hand that over, we’ll put your town to our rudder and ne’er return.”

Keith hesitated. There was no way these pirates would keep their word, but he had no choice. He held out the medallion. Shiro grabbed for it like it was his only hope for life. 

“Our bargain?” Keith prompted when Shiro stilled for a few beats. 

Shiro grinned devilishly, but then nodded to the pirate who’d slapped Keith...his first mate, Axca. 

“Still the guns and stow ‘em. Signal the men, set the flags, and make good to clear port!”

The crew scrambled to follow his orders and for the first time that night, the cannons stopped and the darkness was still. It was unnerving at first. Keith was surprised, and relieved. He wasn’t certain that the pirates would honor the bargain. Shiro turned away and Keith realized something very important: he was still on the boat.

”Wait,” He called after Shiro, “You must return me to shore! According to the rules of the Order of the Brethen...”

Shiro whirled around to face her.

”First,” His voice was stern and unyielding, “your return to shore was _not_ part of our agreement so I _must_ do nothing. Secondly: you must be a _pirate_ for the code to apply.”

”Thirdly...the code it more what you’d call guidelines than actual rules!” 

He grinned silver and gold at Keith. 

“Welcome aboard the _Black Lion_, Mr. McClain.” 

* * *

The sun dawned red that morning and when Lance came too, all was still. 

He groaned and brought himself to his feet. Rubbing his head, the chaos of the night before fully hit him as he took in the devastation of Port Arus. 

The harbor smoked with the ruins of ships and the town reeked with the acrid smell of smoke. Debris from razed homes littered the streets with still smoldering fire. 

KEITH!!!

Lance turned and ran for the fort.

* * *

He burst into Allura’s office where she and Governor Coran were pouring over maps.

”They’ve taken him!” He shouted, “They’ve taken Keith!”

Silence. Coran, Allura, and Leifsdottir barely spared him a glance before turning their attention to the giant map draped over the desk. 

“We are aware of the situation.” Allura grit out. Lance gaped at him in disbelief.

”We have to go after them...and save him!” 

Coran whirled on him, his panic making him short tempered.

”And where do you suppose we start? If you have any information concerning my son, then share it!”

Lance’s voice failed him. Coran glowered at him.

”Leave, Mr. McClain.”

A sudden thought came to Kinkaid, who was standing with Griffin just within the door. Wary of the fury of his governor and Commander, he ventured his information.

”That Pidge Holt...she talked about the _Black Lion.”_

”M...mentioned it, is more what she did” Griffin put in.

”Still...” 

Lance perked up. “We can ask her where it is! Maybe she can lead us to it!”

”That _pirate_ tried to kill my son! We could never trust a word she said!” Coran fixed him in a pointed glare. Lance was not deterred.

”We could strike a bargain...”

”no,” Allura didn’t look at him, simply waved him off, “the pirates who invaded the fort left Holt locked in her cell. Ergo she is not their ally, and therefor of no value.”

She finally looked at Lance. 

“We will determine their most likely course and launch a search mission that sails with the tide.”

Lance slammed his axe into the desk, cutting through the map.

”THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” 

Allura grabbed him by the arm and drug him out of the office. 

“Mr. McClain this is not the time for rash action.”

She pulled him in closer, “Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for Keith.”

She shoved him away. “Now go home.”

Lance watched her retreating back, his face set firm. 

And then he whirled on his heel and marched away.

* * *

“ARRRRGGGGG!” Pidge rattled the bars of her cage. No good. Even with the damage done from the cannons, the bars refused to budge. She lay back with a groan.

Now what?

The entrance to the hallway suddenly filled with light and Pidge watched as the blacksmith from earlier, Lance if her memory served, marched towards her. She pulled her hat over her eyes. 

“Are you familiar with that ship? The _Black Lion_?” He demanded, pressing his face to the bars. 

The pint-sized pirate glared at him from underneath her hat. 

“Somewhat.” 

“Where does it make berth?”

She almost lost her composure at his naivety. Was he serious?

”Surely you’ve heard the stories? The _Black Lion _sails from Isla de Mureta... an island that cannot be found, save by those who already know where it is.”

Lance scoffed. “The ship’s real enough. So its anchorage must be a real place...Where is it?”

Pidge sat up and came to the bars. It was rather difficult to appear intimidating when she stood nearly a foot shorter than the boy before her.

“Why ask me?”

“Because you’re a pirate.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “And you want to turn pirate yourself?” This was too good to be true. With how angry he’d been during their duel, she was certain the _Haggard Witch_ would sooner come aground than Lance turn pirate. 

“Never,” Lance snarled. Then he sighed.

”The took Mr. Kogane.”

Pidge pretended to be surprised. She was right, Lance _had_ found himself somebody he couldn’t have. 

“So it is that you’ve found someone. Well, if you’re intending to be brave and all and hasten to his rescue and so win fair gent’s heart, you’ll have to do it alone,” she lay back down and crossed her arms behind her head. “I see no profit in it for me.” 

Lance looked at her, biting back the urge to reach through the bars and grab the lass by the front of her filthy shirt. The he though of something. 

“I can get you out of here.”

Pidge scoffed, “How? The key’s run off.”

Lance took a step back and cast a critical eye over the bars of the cell. 

“I helped build these cells. Those are hook and ring hinges. The proper application of strength and the door’ll lift free...Just calls for the right lever and fulcrum...”

She watched him, something about the way he spoke and moved was eerily familiar. Now where had she seen this before?

”What did you say your name was again?” 

Lance gave her a look. 

“Lance McClain.”

_McClain...McClain..._the name echoed in her head and Pidge suddenly had a vision of a man with the same caramel skin and chocolate hair. 

“Lance McClain...” she whispered to herself. Then she shook her head and stood. 

”I’ll tell you what Mr. McClain, I’ve changed my mind. You spring me from this cell and on pain of death, I’ll take you to the _Black Lion_.” 

She stuck her hand through the bars and smiled. Lance looked at her warily.

”Do we have an accord?”

Lance looked at the hand as if it were a serpent waiting to strike him and had the sudden sensation that he was making a deal with the Devil herself. But Keith was in danger, and his only hope of saving him was the girl before him.

Lance shook her hand.

”Agreed.”

”AGREED!” Pidge danced away. “Now get me out of here.”

Lance nodded and cast around, looking for material. He positioned a chair for his fulcrum and took the long bench and levered it under the door. 

Lance pushed down hard on the end of the bench. The door lurched upwards and with a clatter fell forward onto the bench and chair.

Pidge nodded, impressed. She stepped forwards. Lance made to leave.

”Hurry, someone will have heard that.” 

“Not without my effects.” Pidge started tearing open drawers and cupboards. She located her pistol, sword belt, and trusty compass. Quickly she strapped the belt on and checked her single shot. 

“Why are you bothering with that?” Lance cocked his head at the lass. She pushed past him and headed for open air.

”My business. As for your business...one question or there’s no use going.” She stopped and spun around to face him.

”How far are you willing to go to save this boy?”

”I’d die for him.” Pidge could see the truth shining in his eyes. He truly believed that conviction. She smiled and patted him.

”Good.”


	8. Lessons in Piracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is either madness...or brilliant!”
> 
> “It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide.”

Pidge held up a hand and Lance halted behind her. 

They were currently hiding underneath a bridge near the shore, peering out towards where the _H.M.S Firecat_was anchored. Lance looked to the determined lass, then back at the ship. 

“We’re going to steal a ship?” he whispered.” Pidge didn’t answer him. Her copper gaze turned away from the _Firecat_and out to the harbor where the _Yellow _bobbed along the gentle waves. Lance followed her eye, not liking the wicked smile tugging at her lips.

”_that _ship?” 

“Commandeer,” She hissed back at him by way of an answer.   
“We’re going to commandeer _that_ ship - nautical term.” She pointed to the _Firecat_. The gang plank was down and a bustle of people marched up and down the length delivering supplies to be stowed in preparation for a long voyage. 

“It’s still against the law.” 

Pidge rounded on him, a wide smile barely concealing her twitching eyebrow. 

“So’s breaking a lady out of jail. Face it Lance: you may _say _you’ll never be a pirate...but you’re off to a rip-roaring start!” She patted him fondly on the chest, “my advice - smile and enjoy it!” 

She turned her attention back to the shoreline. She needed a rip-roaring plan if this was going to work. 

Sneak aboard with the loading crew? No...to obvious. 

Maybe up the other side...no that wouldn’t work. They’d need to get into the water without...being...seen.

She spied a row of dinghies on the shore and grinned. 

“Come on.” 

* * *

If ever a sight there was to see...this was it. 

Lance and Pidge were hunched in half underneath one of the dinghies and as soon as a squad of redcoats ran past, they scuttled into the water. 

Lance half expected the water to immediately flood their little craft, but to his surprise the buoyancy of the boat created a little air pocket for them. He couldn’t help the smile that split his face. 

“This is either madness...or brilliant.” 

Pidge huffed, her much shorted legs kicking madly with the effort to keep the boat level above their heads. 

“It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide.” 

* * *

Griffin and Kinkaid were about to drop dead from pure boredom. At first it had been exiting; being chosen to man the _Yellow_and keep watch to ensure the pirates didn’t return to wipe Port Arus off the map, but the novelty of their assignment quickly wore off. 

It was hot.

It was humid.

And the pirates appeared to be disinclined the return while the sun was up. 

They weren’t the only men on the _Yellow _to be wanting action. About a dozen sailors were gathered on the main deck and somebody had had the foresight to smuggle a set of dice aboard with them. Griffin and Kinkaid had quickly found themselves drawn into the game with the crowd, and if Lieutenant Leifsdottir cared about the breakdown in discipline then she surely didn’t show it. 

Pidge and Lance chose this moment to vault themselves over the railing, pistols drawn and ready. 

“EVERYBODY Stay calm,” Pidge called out merrily to the assembled marines, “We’re taking over this ship!” 

“AYE! AVAST!” Lance bared his teeth, pretending to be more intimidating then he really felt. Pidge _almost _slapped him, but instead settled for a look and shook her head. 

So much for a rip-roaring start to his career. 

The marines paused for a beat, then burst out with a thunderous concophany of laughter. Pidge grinned, her pistol holding level with Lieutenant Leifsdottir’s face. The laughter died out, replaced by shaking heads. Leifsdottir noted the gun and raised an incredulous eyebrow.

”You’re serious?” She asked. Pidge’s smile turned feral. 

“Deadly.” She knocked the hammer back. Leifsdottir’s mouth dropped open and her normally sharp brain scrambled to find the pattern.

”This ship cannot be crewed by only two people! You’ll never make it out of the bay!”

Pidge smirked and gestured over the side of the rail with her pistol. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

* * *

Commadore Allura had _not _had a good morning between the desperate search for her dear Keith and the unexpected appearance of that damned blacksmith. 

Now she was hunched over her desk, charts and maps and logs covering every inch, referencing and cross referencing every known route she could think of trying to find one blasted ship! Governor Corran was little help. He stood at the window, gazing out at the horizon as if the ship would miraculously appear. 

What he got instead was a tiny dingy overloaded with sailors. 

“Commodore...”he said, resisting the urge to reach out and tap her shoulder. Allura held up a finger.

”One moment.” She was halfway through a manifest of trade routes. 

“But...”

”_Please.” _

“Dammit woman!” Corran grabbed her shoulder, not daring to take his eyes off the boat, “Someone is stealing a ship!” 

That got her attention. Allura’s head snapped up. She snatched her spyglass from its place on top of the maps and hurried over. Her gaze locked on to the dingy, where she saw Leifsdottir standing and waving her arms. The Lieutenant pointed over her shoulder. 

Allura found the _Yellow _slowly drifting out of the bay. 

She focused her attention on the main deck and saw Lance toying with the lines...

”McClain,” she grit out, somehow not surprised, “to rashPidge standing on the steps leading up to the wheel, waving her tiny arms in a facsimile of guidance. 

The spyglass drooped with her astonishment. 

“That is without doubt, the worst pirate I have ever seen.”

* * *

While Lance grappled with the lines, Pidge leaned against the wheel as if she didn’t have a care in the world. 

Lance looked over his shoulder.

”They’re coming!” 

The sails of the _Firecat _were full and true to her name, the lithe little ship was cutting across the bay, quickly drawing up to the slow-moving _Yellow_. 

Soon they were abreast and Allura’s crew aboard the _Firecat _shot a line of grappling hooks across, tying the sister ships together. As one the mariners swarms across. Allura is the last to board the _Yellow_, her hand resting on the pommel of her blade. 

“Search every cabin, every hold...down to the bilges if you must!” 

She didn’t see the lone grappling line shoot across at the very stern of the ship. 

She didn’t see Lance and Pidge shimmy their way across the line and onto the _Firecat_. 

She _definitely _dosen’t see them throw the lone sentry over the side, but she does notice when the _Firecat _starts to sail away from the _Yellow_. 

Pidge had undone the grappling lines and now stood smugly at the wheel whilst Lance cranked the capstan bars and raised the mainsail...not a hard task for one man when all the preparatory work was already done. 

“Sailors!” She croaked out, “Back to the _Firecat__!_”

But she was already too far away. One brave man tried to swing across on a rope, but fell short with a splash. 

Pidge gave a feral grin and waved her hat in salute.

”Thank you, Commodre, for getting our ship ready to sail! We’d’ve had a hard time of it by ourselves!”

Allura snarled mutely and rounded on her poor Lieutenant. “Raise the sails and come about, get them in range of the long nine.”

”We’re to fire on our own ship?” That sealed it...the Commadore had lost her ever-loving mind.

”Better to see it at the bottom of the sea then in the hands of a pirate.”

The helmsman spun the wheel...nothing. The _Yellow _did not move from her heading. 

“She’s disabled the rudder chain, sir!” He called to Allura. She grit her teeth.

”So it would seem.” 

She watched the _Firecat _fade into the distance until it was nothing more then a speck of black on the horizon. Leifsdottir smirked in admiration. 

“That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen.” 

“So it would seem.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short filler chapter while I work on Keith’s dinner with Shiro. This took entirely too long to get out and I apologize. This particular scene is one of my personal favorites in the entire movie and I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Until next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Pirates of the Carribean  
I love Voltron  
This is the fanfic that LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED FOR but imma do it anyway...and please, if you know anything about POTC please don't spoil anything.  
None of this is cannon  
I own absolutely nothing in this story...every character and plotline goes to their respective owners. 
> 
> ATTENTION WATTPAD USERS  
please don't post this on wattpad. Leave that decision up to me!


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